I spent my entire life a shadow.

From the second I stood on my wobbly, stubby toddler legs and followed my older sister, I'd never quite stepped out from the huge shadow she casted behind her.

My early childhood I was no more than a fly on the way; at school and home. Nobody at school noticed me, the teacher's referred to me as Blair's smart little sister, and Mom and Dad would occasionally forget to pick me up when my sister had a dance recital or cheer practice. I was an afterthought, and for the most part, I'd grown used to that.

It wasn't until high school I'd started to come into myself; but that too, didn't last long. Because the moment word got around that I was the Blair Foster's little sister, I knew I'd never be able to pave my own way. Boys used to me to get to my sister, girls pretended to be my friend until I spilled all my sister's dirty and darkest secrets so they could use it against her. It became a repetitive cycle for three years, and it still lingered long after she'd graduated my junior year.

College should have been the time to finally be myself, but three years in and I still have yet to figure out who the hell I am outside of my sister's shadow. I'd spent so long living in the comfort zone, tucked securely under her wing, that with her gone I felt like a helpless and lost little girl.

Staring at my sister now as she stood to the left of our father in a tight red dress, her thick, dark hair a curtain of black silk cascading down her back, I pinched a strand of my own mess of dark blonde waves between my fingers and stared. It wasn't until I started to see my thumb and forefinger double that I realized I may have had a little too much to drink. But that was the only way I'd survive tonight. Hell, alcohol was the only way I was going to make it to New Years being back here.

"Are you really sulking right now?" a husky chuckle sounded from the hall to my back. "You haven't changed at all."

I set my wine glass on a coaster, or at least somewhere close to it, covering my hand in the process. I stared at my hand, nearly wiping it on my clothes, then stopped inches from doing so, seeing that I was in white cocktail dress. Dammit.

"Are you drunk, Brooke?" his voice was closer now, and there was a lot less amusement and much more concern in the question this time. "Yeah. Definitely drunk."

I finally forced my head in his direction and glared.

Christopher Barnes was yet another thing that Blair had been blessed with. They'd met in first grade when he offered to tie her shoe since she hadn't learned yet, and they had been friends since. My sister swore up and down that it was all they were, and that it was all they'd ever be, but everyone had always assumed otherwise. Even knowing the brother-sister relationship behind closed doors, I questioned it myself. My sister was stunning; tall, curves for days, and all the perfect little features I lacked. Sharp cheekbones and jaw line, big blue eyes with fans of long, thick, natural lashes, and perfect heart shaped lips.

Chris was just as breathtaking, piercing green eyes, perfect teeth and smile, and the sexiest dimple under a light scruff on his face. Back in high school he'd played football and baseball, and college I think he'd played hockey, but had ultimately decided to get a degree in business or management or something like that.

Staring at all six-foot one of him, I considered standing, so I wasn't so intimidated by him brooding over me. Even at twenty-five, he still had that glint of mischief in his eyes, as if he were ready to get himself into some kind of trouble any second.

"Chrissy!" my sister squealed, tearing herself away from Dad and rushing across the room in stilettos. An action I surely would have broken my ankle and neck in attempting. "You made it!"

"Of course." Chris hugged my sister, keeping her pressed against his side as he made a gesture toward me on the sofa. "I think she's drunk."

My sister's crystalline eyes narrowed as she slipped from under her best friend's arm and crouched in front of me. "Yup."

"Oh, shut up." I dismissed both of their concerned looks. "Go enjoy your party."

"Maybe I should drive her home." Chris offered.

My sister frowned. "Yeah. I think that'd be best. She might do or say something she'll regret."

"She is right here and is perfectly fine." I assured, but the second I stood the room spun and I collapsed right back on to the couch. "Okay, look, I had a head rush."

"I'll take her back home." Chris made an advance toward me.

"Nah-uh, pretty boy."

My sister stifled a laugh. "Brooke, let him drive you home. We can talk in the morning."

"Fine." I started to stand, this time slower, "But I can walk on my own."

Both my sister and Christopher looked amused, but Chris made a gesture for me to follow him as he grabbed his keys and coat from the rack to the left of the front door. Mom and Dad waved goodbye, but Dad caught my arm on my way passed.

"I want you back here first thing in the morning. We need to have a serious talk."

I fought the urge to snap back with something snarky or a snide remark referring to my sister, but instead just replied a sarcastic, "Yes, Daddy." And continued my long trek to the front door. Chris was out on the porch, conversating with some guy I vaguely recognized from high school, but he brushed right by me as if I weren't a staggering mess heading in his direction.

"See." I made a gesture after him as I joined Chris on the patio. "Nobody notices me. It's like a don't exist."

"That's not true."

I rolled my eyes. "It is true."

"Whatever, Brooke. Let's get you home before you make a fool of yourself."

I'd love to have blamed what happened next on his words, but unfortunately if I were being honest, it was all on me and my drunkenness.

The minute he stepped off the last stair, my left foot went for the first step, but sometime during that process, my right tried to make the same advance forward, and I fell. Luckily for me and unfortunately for him, Chris broke my fall. Out of reflex, his hands caught my waist, and I watched him shut his eyes as he braced himself for the fall, but it never came. He'd hit a pile of snow, and the minute his back caved the giant snowball in, a few flakes hit me in the face.

Other than the fact I was quite literally straddling him, it was probably the best way this fall could have gone. Neither of us were hurt and it was something we'd laugh about years from now.

Or, I suppose it would have been if my ex-boyfriend didn't step out of his car and on to the curb as Chris and I were recovering and processing what happened. Just as Henry started toward us, I jerked my head back toward Chris. He was still staring at me with a deer-in-headlights expression, as if he couldn't quite comprehend what was going on and why we were still in this position. Joke was on him, because what I was about to do was worse. I closed the small distance between us and kissed him, my hand slipping from his shoulder and into the snow sent me flat against his chest and I squeezed my eyes shut as warmth crept up the back of my neck and into my cheeks.

"Brooke." Chris breathed. "I really think we should get you back to your apartment."

I nodded, trying again to push myself up from the snow and failing miserably. Coming to the realization I was either too drunk or too embarrassed to move, he slipped from beneath me and cradled me against his chest before picking me up and stuffing me in the back seat of his cherry red Charger. It was as I was sitting up to put my seatbelt on that I caught sight of our audience standing in my doorway and crowding the front porch and started to slide down again and out of sight. But not before I caught my sister's eyes from the sidewalk, looking as if she were trying to recover from secondhand embarrassment.

"Are you okay?" Chris asked once he'd shut his door. "Does anything hurt?"

Now, I was embarrassed. Tomorrow, surely my pride, ego, and heart.

"I'm okay." I managed to get out as he revved the engine, signaling everyone to go back inside. "Are you? You kind of broke my fall."

"Kind of?" there was that husky chuckle again. "Yeah, I'm good."

The uncomfortable, awkward silence in the car was unbearable, even with my nodding off every few seconds. "I'm sorry for kissing you. I'm sure I'll have some smart-ass thing to say about it tomorrow, or maybe deny it, so I thought I'd say it now."

"It's all good." he fixed his rearview and flashed me a quick smile. "You wouldn't believe how many times I've been kissed by a drunk chick. No worries, Brooke."

With that tidbit of too much information, I slumped back in the seat and yawned. "You know, you were pretty comfortable. Like for a body. I thought falling on someone would hurt. Especially since you're like, super muscular."

Chris was laughing quietly, finding enjoyment in my rambling, and whispered, "I'm glad I was able to break your fall, Brooklyn."

"I'm tired." I mumbled groggily, resting my head against the cold of the window. "Wake me when I'm home?"

"Sure."

Christopher Harris did not wake me when we got to my apartment. No, this man carried me bridal style up two flights of stairs, across my living room, and into my bedroom. The man was insufferably nice and gentlemanly-it made me hate him more. All my drunken mind could comprehend once he'd pulled the blanket over my chest was that I shouldn't be left alone. I must have said it out loud, because he laughed and set something on the nightstand to my left. "I'll crash on the couch. Goodnight, Brooke."

I waited until I heard the door creak until it was ajar before I rolled on to my side, curled my body into a fetal position, and allowed my exhaustion to consume me.